


Puppy Love

by gootarts



Category: Umineko no Naku Koro ni | When the Seagulls Cry
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 02:38:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21263720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gootarts/pseuds/gootarts
Summary: At this point, the full moon has become routine for the two of them.





	Puppy Love

The full moon had become almost routine at this point, to the point where Beato had started to refer to it as her monthly gift. He would inevitably notice the reminder on his smartphone to buy half his weight in meat at the supermarket a couple days before, cook it in batches, and chuck it in the refrigerator for later. 

A full belly was simply one of those things that would help with control; hunger would always, regardless of who they were originally, make anybody snappy. That was what the scores of parenting-style books collecting dust on his bookshelf said about it, anyways. Inevitably they would recommend the same basic pieces of advice;  _ don’t fight your instincts _ — _ accept them, and you can control them _ , even if that award-winning English author didn’t seem to get just how  _ ridiculous _ the cost of buying that much meat was. Yes, it was very helpful, but there was a big difference between how much it would cost for somebody living to cow-covered America compared to Japan. That wasn’t even taking into consideration other parts of the outdoors! So many foreign-language authors seemed to think that everybody was a simple twenty-minute drive from some abandoned swath of woods! If he wanted to do that when the moon began to wax to its fullest, he would have to take the hour and a half subway trip from Tokyo out to Koburi Pass; any closer, and he would be overwhelmed by throngs of people who were also looking for somewhere secluded under the full moon. 

All that effort, including the journey back once the sun rose, just wasn’t worth it, for both him and the others like him living in the city. So they just stayed home, stuffed themselves with cheap meat, and tried their best to make themselves comfortable as the moon rose. For him, that meant curling up naked on his bed next to Beato and watching TV until he ended up drifting off to sleep as neither a human or a beast. 

At least, that was how it was  _ supposed _ to go, he thought as he kept scrolling back through the messages Beato had sent him the previous night. That exact kind of insidious blackmail she had sent to him would ruin him in a second if it was ever leaked onto the internet. He could’ve pulled up a score of other information on the picture if he wanted to— _ taken exactly 15 hours ago, in this house. Captioned as ‘Moondays can be like that’,  _ but that wouldn’t change the image itself, a snap of a beautiful russet wolf snuggled up to Beato in bed in the process of licking her face. Another swipe to the left, and another image appeared, of that same wolf, looking pathetic as all hell outside a bathroom door. And another, of that wolf again, nuzzling her face. However, unlike the scores of wild animal videos that seemed to always end up viral, that wolf was not truly a wolf. Had she waited for another 12 hours, one Battler Ushiromiya would eventually emerge from that pile of fur. There were older pictures there, too, going back years and peppered with other messages; like ‘ _ can you pick up meat tonight? _ ’ or ‘ _ friends are going hiking. want to come? _ ’ 

Had he scrolled up to the very beginning, he would’ve only found a couple messages; tense, awkward ones trying to get a read on the other before they'd gotten a feel for each other, eventually settling into something friendly. At a first, a pun, and then jokes, and books, and stories. Whispered punchlines like '_i'll have you know, i'm perfectly used to transitioning_' or '_yeah, i wolf things down right before_' that leaped into the brain like a burst of lightning and refused to leave until infecting another person with the joke. After that, the slew of wolf pics began to load. Those images were always roughly 30 days apart, perfectly in synch with the cycles of the moon. 

After a point, the slow change had turned less to something confusing and more to something that was automatic, just like thirst or tiredness was. It was simply part of his body. Transforming was less changing at the core, animalistic level and more like slipping on a warm coat as he felt Beato snuggle up to him; not something that was good or bad, just something that _happened_. It would be a lie to say those base emotions weren’t enjoyable on some level, in the way that alcohol was; fun in the moment, but  _ really _ embarrassing to wake up to. It was like that voice of reason in the back of your brain that whispered in your ear that  _ you would regret this later _ got switched off at the first sign of belly rubs. 

Werewolves, by large, did not turn into ravenous killing machines under the light of the moon. The brain function would change as if it were just a little drunk, shifting until the base emotions and instincts remained. A cruel man would become cruel in turn, while a friendly man would become a friendly wolf. A man who cared deeply for his love but did not always express it would, in turn, become almost puppy-like as he tripped over his own paws. 

* * *

He could already feel the weird, warm feeling worming at the back of his head, dulling the edge of his mind as he took off his clothes and dug his way under the covers while Beato turned on the TV. By trial and error, that was always the easiest way to do it; watch some sort of movie he’d seen a dozen times before as he slowly curled closer and closer to Beato, feeling her body shift as she breathed. As the show wore on, he could already start to  _ smell _ her, that scent that he could only pick out under the light of the full moon; the smell of lingering roses mixed with nail polish remover and mothballs. It didn’t exactly smell pleasant, no human really smelled good to a wolf, but it smelled like  _ her _ . Like the person who had been watching over him like this for three years now, snuggled up close to him in a nightgown. Yes, she was mostly watching TV, but she was with  _ him _ , one arm curled lazily around him as his body changed. Occasionally, she would glance over and give the kind of small smile that made his chest pound faster and started to life the parts of his tail that were starting to grow in a slow, rhythmic _thump thump thump_. And then she would laugh, that long, repeating, beautiful laugh as she would smooth the fur growing over his forehead down to kiss it. 

He didn’t have the vocal cords to express it, but if he did, he would have laughed in turn and held her close. But this was now, and he didn’t have the mind to watch the show; all he wanted to watch was  _ her _ as she gave another scratch behind his ears, waiting for the program to end so that he would be the subject of her undivided attention. That was the kind of thing he loved, even afterwards in the morning when the embarrassing memories of the previous night slowly started flooding back. This time here, sandwiched between the woman he loved and the bed, was almost like distilled sunshine when it was happening. There was nothing he needed to worry about; not the rent, not his job, not the neighbors. Just the two of them. She was warm, and soft, and every word from her sounded so nice; he could practically smell the feeling radiating from her skin. It was the smell of  _ warm _ , of dopamine gently coursing through her as she wrapped her arms tight around him and nuzzled into his chest. 

She just sat there, breathing softly enough to tickle his fur in the one spot she could hug him without getting licked. The TV kept flickering, whispering the words they’d both heard dozens of times before, as they both laid there. He would inevitably try and squirm at some point to lick the scent of roses and taste of beef off her lips, as she would give that gorgeous laugh again, phone raised to preserve a picture of the two of them for eternity. 

* * *

The first time they ever did anything remotely like this was years ago, some weekend where his roommate at the time was out on vacation. She’d rode the train over, backpack bulging full of what he thought might be adult toys but were actually just full of books and food a couple hours before the date as she’d given a tense glance down to make sure she had the right address.

Dinner was just as awkward, just words spoken tense over a pile of raw meat and reheated rice, neither wanting to address the large, furry animal that would soon be in the room as thoughts ran through his mind. Maybe the wolf thing was too much for a second date, even if all the date sites said it was fine. Each date was supposed to be some series of firsts, right? First kiss, first touch, that sort of thing? Beato had been pretty candid about the fact that she might not follow that exact pattern, but she still asked about seeing him as a wolf. She was here now as both their eyes darted to the clock like an employee on closing shift. He almost had to remind himself to gnaw at the meat sitting in front of him instead of taking part in the awkward mating dance of their eyes, constantly shifting anywhere but the other’s face. 

“So, Battler,” she trailed off for a moment as her fingers tap-tap-tapped on the table, “where do you want to do this?”

He gave a laugh as finally, blessedly, he was handed an icebreaker. “Ihihihi, want me to take my clothes off first?”

That earned a snort as she moved her hands from tapping to slowly circling the table to enunciate her speech. “I haven’t even paid you yet.”

“Ah, true! How unprofessional.” He took their finished plates into the dishwasher, adding care to start the wash cycle; he had made the mistake of leaving them on the table once before. Beatrice did not need to see him trying to lick them clean later. “Normally, I use my living area for important business like this.” 

The living area was weird, connected in the nervous center of the apartment; it was where everything connected via doors and locks, a timeless style that had evolved architecturally to meet a similarly timeless need. Had the paint been stripped from the walls, he would have seen solid wood paneling, made specifically to withstand the rages of a confused wolf. And locks, designed for human hands, not paws. That was something you needed an experienced eye for, just like how a seasoned chef could smell a bad pastry from a mile away. But for now, Beato just eyed the decor: completely barren of anything fragile, save for a cheap scratched-up TV on the floor. 

“I tend to just turn on the TV and fall asleep,” he explained, flopping down on the oversized dog bed as he gave a laugh. “I’m pretty well-trained.” 

“So if you wanted, you could come when I call?” She gave that barking laugh again, a single eyebrow raised as the pun sank in, pulling at the corner of his brain until he finally gave into a big, barking laugh alongside her.

“You’d need to offer some sort of treat to get that from me.” He gave a stretch as he glanced at the clock hung almost at the ceiling, its hand slowly ticking. 

“I see.” After taking in the sight, she took a seat next to him, legs crossed beneath her as she glanced over his way. 

Her eyes were curious, and even if he couldn’t smell it on her, she was probably sorta excited, the type of excitement that stuck in your gut like when a lover was coming over when you were alone, or if you had something really cool coming in the mail. It was a genuine kind of excitement, the kind that made him mentally smile a little, but at the same time, his mind was politely replaying the times he had been watched through this (which, in his memory, was never). He’d had girlfriends in the past, but they had always arrived after., and after a bit of thinking, maybe the concept of her watching like this, when they didn’t know each other that well, was a bit uncomfortable. So he gave an awkward cough as he said “W-would it be okay if you didn’t watch me transform?” He gave a weird glance, trying to maybe get her to understand. It was a weird, personal thing. Probably maybe third base equivalent, bare minimum. 

She seemed to get it, though, as she shrugged. “I’ve been meaning to shower, anyways.” 

He wasn’t sure if ‘_I didn’t shower the day before before going on a date with a guy_’ was a little white lie or some sort of genuine truth, maybe bolstered by those romance books that always used phrases like _his ears drooped as the scent of her was washed off by the rain; _regardless of how much she bathed, she would still smell like Beato. But she otherwise didn’t seem to mind as he showed her over to his bathroom. 

Back to the room. Shut the door. Hang up clothes on that hook six feet off the floor. Tune into that old show he’d seen hundreds of times. It was enough of a routine that plopping down on the bed and laying a blanket over him was automatic. 

Really, it was more mundane than the movies liked to show. No explosions, no screaming, just a single guy zoning out in front of a TV, more focused on how warm the bed was than the limbs changing underneath it. It was nice, and he was warm and happy. The sounds were nice and soft, not loud and sudden; the scents were familiar and cozy. He could curl up a little, warm himself a little under the lights. He didn’t really want to move, because moving meant he got away from the  _ warm _ . And the warm was nice. He liked the warm a lot. He just wanted to melt into it, fur and all, so much so that he almost forgot that there was somebody else there. But he didn’t, because he smelled her! And nobody locked the door today, which was nice. He could just nudge it with his nose and it opened! He could already hear her in there, too. But the door to the bathroom was locked. Maybe she would unlock it if she knew he was here. 

So he sat down and gave a soft  _ whine, whine _ . 

He laid down right outside the door, his back pressing up against it, in case she did open it. Just so he wouldn’t miss it. And he didn’t! She opened it after a moment, and as she glanced down at him in the doorway, he could already feel his tail thump-thump-thumping against the floor. She gave a weird, kinda confused look, and he could smell she was a little nervous as the scene took a moment to process. She was only really wearing a towel, after all. 

“Battler?” She pronounced his name a bit odd, sounding out each syllable as she spoke, but he could recognize his name! So he wagged a bit more as he stood up, nosing her to smell her just a little more. He’d smelled her before, but that was as a human. This was different; she smelled so much different now, from the whiff of food on her lips to the taste of the emotions slowly rising to the tip of her skin as he gave it an experimental lick (it tasted like water mixed with a hint of shampoo).

“Good evening.” Her greeting was weird. Stiff. She was probably a bit nervous, like how most humans were when they had a wolf as heavy as they were outside their bathroom door. So he flopped over a little more, as if to say ‘ _ it’s fine! _ ’, belly to the sky as she watched. It seemed to work, as she stooped over to fluff it just a little as she laughed, that familiar excitement bubbled up in his chest. That was the thing about it; that childlike excitement that popped up at a moment’s notice, knocking on the door to his consciousness and demanding that he keep up whatever was causing it. It was like liquor without the hangover, making his mind float on cloud nine as all four feet hit the ground. Even if that echo in the back of his brain was screaming ‘ _ this is embarrassing!!! _ ’, that central core had the override switch. 

Such a thing was why he was on his back, pride falling to pieces as Beato knelt down next to him (next to him! him!!!) as she rubbed his belly. Were he human, he wouldn’t have turned that sort of offer down, ihihi, but he would’ve spent the time cracking jokes, or trying to play off how awkwardly sexual this was. Because really, wasn’t this basically second base? Or something like that? It was definitely some sort of intimacy thing, at the very least; you were presenting yourself to somebody with all inhibition stripped away, leaving only the very furry core behind. A core you had little actual control over. 

She seemed halfway cognoscente of that, though. She watched him with a guided eye, keeping some sort of respectful distance. There was no high-pitched baby voice that would’ve doubtlessly driven him into a frenzy, or roughhousing with his paws. For that, the small yelling human logic core in the back of his mind was thankful, but the wolf brain was not. Eventually, unfortunately, she stopped petting him after a moment, as all humans did. It really was a pity, that, as she stood up and clutched her towel a little closer to her chest. 

“I need to finish showering, Battler.” She spoke firm as he half-processed the words, but stopped at that last one, that instantly recognizable name. But, right as his ears perked, the door shut, which was supremely unfair, especially right after saying his name. So he sat down, and whined a little more again. There was a sigh this time.

“Battler,” she almost muttered-she sounded tired, he hoped she wasn’t-“you can’t join me.” His brain only processed the first word as a rush of dopamine as that word, that lovely beautiful three-syllable Ba-To-Ra played through his brain. 

“Battler.” The words were firm, but that was him! He sat at attention, but his tail hitting the ground ruined the effect. Her eyes were firm, too, as a chill ran through his body and down his spine as for once, he listened past that initial sounding of his name. “Stay.”

There was something about the hard command that stirred something in his gut, made him want to obey. It almost reminded him of that lady from that dog training TV show he tuned into that one time by accident under the moon, of that British lady who spoke with that authoritarian tone that made him just want to  _ obey _ , that he’d immediately vowed not to tune into after reliving those embarrassing moments the next day. But that voice, that tone, it was exactly the same, triggered that same primal instinct to listen. 

So he did, without a second thought as his butt hit the ground while his tail, his traitorous tail, thumped against the ground a couple more times for good measure. And with that, she had shut the door. He heard the shower running a moment later, so he could only assume that was what she was doing. That was a shame, he thought, as he laid down once again outside the door. She’d be lonely in there, since he was lonely out here. But there was only one exit. She would have to come out eventually, and then she would pet him, and whisper in that voice again. She had a nice voice, even if he didn’t hear it now. Eventually, the water shut off, followed by an agonizingly long stretch of time as she probably combed her hair, emerging clothed with the towel draped over her hair, almost tripping over him. 

She looked to the door, and then him, and then back to the door. “Mmmm, did you really wait all this time out here waiting for me?” He wagged his tail, because he really didn’t understand the question as she laughed, that beautiful barking sound of a laugh with that snaggletoothed grin. “You’re a good man.”

He didn’t understand the words, but he did hear the word good, which was good enough for him as he traced her steps going to the main room. Slowly, she sat down, and he joined her on her lap. She was warm, that sort of warm that warmed your bones, your soul. The kind that invited you to stick your muzzle into her and nap in her lap, even if she was a little bony. Or, well, really bony. But that was fine, the  _ warm,  _ that nice, happy, intoxicating  _ warm _ more than made up for it. 

As he drifted off, that rational part of his brain whispered something about how this would mean he would wake up naked in her lap. But it was warm, and he didn’t want to get up from where Beato was, so he stayed put. 

He may have heavily regretted that decision come morning, when he woke with his limbs curled underneath him in her lap, air conditioning licking at his bare skin.

But now, at least, it was a bit less embarrassing than waking up naked on somebody you barely knew. There were still the awkward mornings where she would have to scoot out from under the covers to not disturb the grown-ass naked man snoring on top of them, and the times when he would escape the house, and she would have to chase him down until she found him eating some weird carcass on the side of the road. But, it was something that had become as mundane as those late night kisses, stolen between gasps; less of an inconvenience, and more something to cherish and clutch to his heart. 

Even if it meant he got texted embarrassing pictures of himself. 


End file.
